I'm the book that beat the speed-reader, and I'm the card the dealers won't touch. And it's just not true I'm a man-eater; all the same, we should probably go dutch.
The things you pick up as you go.
While I inadventantly quit smoking nearly 3 months ago, the only time I really miss it is when I think about all my cigarette breaks on Via XXVII Aprile’s balcony in Florence.
A typical day in Italy. Full of sheer class.
The “Winter Date” look— with a beret.
I was having a GREAT hair day. Also, I wish my bone structure/lips always looked this way. Because I’m pretty sure they don’t, and this was just a particularly “cute” day for me.
Does anyone else feel like their face tricks them every other day like that?